Page 42 of I Want to Know What Love Is

He shrugs. “Obviously I find you… interesting.” I laugh.

“You google all your professors and coaches?”

“Nope. You’re a special case.” He’s getting too honest, not following the rules of pretense, of keeping things cool and in the realm of harmless banter. And I have no idea what to say to that except to snort and hope my crazy heartbeat and riled up nerves don’t show on my face.

“So what’d you find on google?” I shouldn’t ask, but It’s the normal thing to do, right?

“You’re 48-10 career win/loss as a coach and have an even more successful record as a college player. You didn’t go pro because of a knee injury and you got left at the altar last year.”

My breath blows out of me like he sucker punched me in the lungs. He’s not playing fair now, bringing up the one thing in my life I’d like to bury forever, the one thing that made me more vulnerable than I’ve ever been, that made me swear never to go there again. The defensive badass that I am rises to the challenge, overcoming any hormonal induced weakness and I strike back.

“Then you know I’m not a fan of permanent relationships with the male species, that I know all about the worst of men and am fully prepared to fight back. And win.”

“No, I didn’t know that.” His words are soft, no joking lilt, no offense, no defense. Nothing but compassion and understanding in his damn eyes and I hate him for it. Damn you, Dylan. But I’m not ready to let my killer instincts fall away for a pretty face or a compassionate look, so I strike back and change the subject.

“How’d your meeting with the sponsor go yesterday? Did you get your money to save the family farm?” I shouldn’t be flip because I know it’s a serious problem and know he feels responsible for his mother, but damn it, right now I am a bitch and there’s no helping it. My survival instincts require it. He pauses a beat and shakes his head.

“You’re giving me whiplash, lady.” He takes a breath and before I have a chance to prompt him with another evil barb, he answers the question. “It’s complicated. The deal is… a good one, but I’m having an attorney look at it.”

“You have an attorney on retainer? Premature to be such a big shot—”

“No. Shelby’s dad is an attorney. He’s reviewing the contract. I was supposed to have the answer by noon, but I got an extension. My sponsor is a piece of work. Thinks he can push me around.” He grins.

“But he can’t push you around, can he?” And I know the answer is no and in spite of all the defensive alarms clanging inside me, I smile.

“As my grandpa used to say, not this old cagey Cajun.”

“Except you’re not old. You’re too young.” Shit. I meant to say young, not too young and he smiles that knowing smile.

“Too young? For what?” he dares me. For me.

“To be cagey enough to deal with a cagey successful businessman—alumni or not.” I find myself breathing fast because I’m out of control and I slow down and take a deep breath. “I’m glad you have an attorney on your side.”

I stand because I can’t sit here any longer across from him, trading barbs and innuendos, not without cracking or being more of a bitch than I’m willing to be.

“Time for me to get out of here,” I say, making a show of looking at my watch though I don’t see the time. My smart-ass apple watch is telling me my heart rate is elevated. Again. Fuck. I need to get a new watch that’s not so smart because the last thing I need is a reminder of my stupidity.

“Sure.” He stands. “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your hot date.” He hefts his backpack up onto his shoulders and I watch the ripple of his muscles because I’m a masochist.

I refuse to walk out with him again, so I turn in the opposite direction of the lobby where he’s heading after I lock up my office. Not that he’d go back on his promise to never kiss me again, a thought that I find profoundly depressing. But hell, I’ll find some other hot guy to kiss. Sooner or later. Hopefully sooner so I can rid myself of the temptation who stands in front of me right now.

“Say hello to Paul for me.” Of course he would bring up Paul again.

“Don’t worry about my dog. Go worry about your own ass. Now shoo.” I wave him off and walk away from him. I don’t turn around, but after a couple of beats I hear him start walking away in the opposite direction and listen until his heavy footsteps fade to nothing and the distant click of the lobby door opening and closing echoes behind me. I can feel the change in the air, the energy in the corridor diminishes, so I know he’s gone.

Picking up my pace, I move quickly to the stairwell that leads to the exit on the other side of the building where I parked my car in the facilities lot. It was a pile of trouble to go through, talking to the night custodian with some lame excuse why I needed to park here to make sure I wouldn’t get towed. The whole thing is ridiculous, but the last thing I can afford is another close encounter like we had the last time when he ended up at my car door.

It’s the last thing Jonesy needs too. He has a lot riding on this football season. Don’t dwell on riding and Jonesy…

My phone beeps, scolding me and saving me as I get in the car. It’s a text from Coach Ryan—Kevin. I glance at it briefly before I start the car. He’s at the place and wondering if I’m stopping in.

“What the hell.” I type in Yes and send it. Why not? He’s male and he’s career appropriate and I need to diffuse all my pent-up girly longing for muscle and sex. Kevin Ryan isn’t a bad looking guy and when he’s not on the field and drops his hard-ass scowl he’s not a bad guy. He’s not a barrel of laughs, but we can talk sports and coaching on the way to bed and the main event. It’ll be okay. I hope to hell he’ll surprise me and be way better than okay.

Chapter Nineteen

Dylan

Back at the house I take the stairs two at a time to my room because I’m pissed at myself. None of your business. She’s right. Her hot date is none of my fucking business, but it took a considerable amount of self-control to let her go and not follow her. Fuck. Am I turning into a stalker?